


Autogynephilia

by your_bro_joe



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Autogynephilia, Boys Will Be Girls, Crossdressing, Gender Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bro_joe/pseuds/your_bro_joe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autogynephilia: /ˌɔːtoʊˌɡaɪnəˈfɪliə/; from Greek “αὐτό-” (self), “γυνή” (woman) and “φιλία” (love) — “love of oneself as a woman". A man’s paraphilic tendency to be sexually aroused by the thought or image of himself as a woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autogynephilia

Scout was close to his mother growing up. Being the youngest, he clung to her, using her as a shield when his brothers got too rough with him, and as a comfort against the pains of growing up.

He remembers vividly sitting beside her at her vanity, watching her apply mascara and lipstick and blush with practiced ease. When he tried to mimic her, she’d laugh, reminding him never to touch her make-up if she wasn’t around, but as long as she was there, she’d give him a full face of it, letting him stare at his reflection as she set about with bright blue shadow and blood-red rouge.

She stopped around the time he turned ten; around the time it stopped being cute and became something she thought might be dangerous. Maybe she was right; once she started discouraging it, he felt deeply ashamed that he wanted to keep doing it. He fought down waves of guilt as a teenager, sneaking into her room to put on understated shadow and pale pink gloss, slip on a short skirt and twirl in front of the mirror, touching himself when he caught his reflection the right way and saw a woman looking back at him.

The euphoria far outweighed the fear.

 

* * *

 

Scout doesn’t want to be a woman. Not all the time, anyway. He like being sweaty and gross, strong and athletic. He likes his dick and his chest hair. It’s just that sometimes, he doesn’t.

Sometimes he wants to be soft and refined, to feel silk stockings against his smooth legs, to feel beautiful rather than rough. He wants to wear lacy lingerie under a man’s shirt and pants, delighting in the secret thrill of it. He wants someone to look into his eyes and tell him he’s the most gorgeous woman they’ve ever seen. He wants big hands to unhook his bra and slide into his panties, stroke him until he comes and makes a mess of his little black dress.

And when he’s done, he wants to put his t-shirt back on and smile at pretty girls, wondering if they can suss out his secret.

 

* * *

 

"It’s for aerodynamics, you ignorant piece of shit!" Scout shouts when Spy catches him shaving his legs. Furious, he stomps back to his room, trying desperately to tune out the Frenchman’s laughter.

Once the door is shut and locked, he opens the bottom drawer of his wardrobe and digs out the dress he stole from his mother. It no longer smells like her perfume, and he’s glad of that. He doesn’t want to be his mother, it was just easier to nick some clothes from her than it would have been to buy or steal them from a store. She didn’t like this one, anyway, he reminds himself, slipping it over his head and zipping the back, admiring the appearance of hips it gives him in the full-length mirror.

A smile flits across his face for a moment before he whispers to himself, “I ain’t a freak." Not looking at his face, he runs a hand over his smooth shin up to the hem of the dress, and sighs.

 

* * *

 

Scout told Medic about his preference when the older man found a stocking poking out of a drawer in his room. Medic bristled, wondering aloud if Scout really was interested in women; if he’d been seeing one without the doctor’s knowledge; if Medic didn’t truly mean that much to him after all. It took all of Scout’s strength to fight back all of the fears the conversation brought up—fear of losing Medic if he believed he was cheating, fear of losing Medic if he was repulsed by his habits, fear of losing him later if he forgave the imagined affair but found out about him later—and tell him that the stocking was his. When Medic seemed skeptical, Scout pulled out the dress and the panties and the bra, all his mother’s size—all  _his_  size—presenting them with no small amount of shame.

Medic asked him to put them on, and Scout froze, terrified the intention was to laugh at him. Medic surprised him, though, by kissing him tenderly and holding him close. Fighting down a blush, the younger man stripped completely and re-dressed. As he smoothed out the front of the dress, Medic took his chin in his hand and kissed him hard.

He called him “beautiful" in German as they made love, and again in English when they were finished, sweating and panting and holding tight to each other.  Their conversation started slowly, until finally Scout could no longer hold back, pouring out years of hidden desires into Medic’s bare chest. Medic kissed his—her—temple, and promised to cherish her.

 

* * *

 

Scout savors the feeling of Medic’s hands caressing his—hers; in these moments, Scout is her—smooth legs, slipping fingers under the hems of her stockings and sliding them down. Scout shivers at the brush of stubble when he rubs his cheek against her thigh.

"You are so beautiful," Medic whispers reverently, looking up at his lover’s lined eyes. She smiles back, presses a kiss to his forehead and leaves lipstick to mark him. The sight makes her chest swell with pride, but then Medic’s hand is brushing her cock, and all she can do is whimper and moan.

If Medic can love her, even like this, she thinks, maybe she’s really not a freak after all.


End file.
